Girl With The White Eyes
by American Daydreamer
Summary: Her lovely image is so haunting, so perfect, so annoying. A collection of SasuHina drabbles.
1. Girl With The White Eyes

_This is just a tiny little oneshot I wrote in about 10 minutes. I'm absolutely in love with this couple! I'm planning on writing a multiple chapter story with these two. I'm working on the outline now. _

_This piece of writing is just a small experiment really. I'm trying to get a feel for the characters and how they'd think, since I'm not experienced with working with either of them. _

_I may or may not add more chapters._

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_Goddamnit._

That girl with those white eyes. Those pearly, expressive eyes half hidden beneath her eyelids, slightly veiled by her soft lashes. That rosey blush that stained her supple cheeks so sweetly when she'd shyly look down at her feet. It was killing him.

His heart beat faster when he saw her standing in the rain, head slightly bowed, soaked midnight hair sticking to her forehead. Ever since then she'd mercilessly invade his thoughts, torturing him with a soft conceptual touch and her agonizingly perfect curves that filled out her sweater.

That image—that sweet, sweet image—was worth killing for, worth dying for...

...almost worth going back for.


	2. Opening Old Wounds

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**A/N:**_Okay, so this is basically a small part from one of the chapters in my upcoming fic. I figured I'd give everyone a little preview and see what they think. So please, don't hold back with the reviews. Be honest with your criticism. However, no flaming with be tolerated, as usual._

_As for finding out the details of what's going on, you'll have to wait until I put the chapter on here to find out ;)_

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Her hands trembled when she reached for his shoulders. She touched him in the manner she would handle very old china; carefully, so he would not shatter under her fingers. His shoulders were broad and solid. Solid, but so very weary from carrying the cross of his past for so many years.

His name left her lips in the gentlest of whispers. "Sasuke..."

It was the first time she had used his first name.

He did not move, as Hinata had hoped. Besides his black hair that brushed against his neck and cheek in the night breeze, he stood like a pillar, his back still facing her. He didn't even stir when she dared to inch closer to him, arms beginning to drape over his shoulders. Hinata slowly pressed her cheek against his back. She could feel his chakra swirl and flow beneath the surface like storm clouds. She wanted to cry.

Sasuke was not surprised when he felt Hinata's nervous half-embrace. She was such a feeling kind of girl, the type who felt others' pain as if it were their own. He subtly winced at it. This was exactly what he did not want; people feeling sorry for him, tears being shed for him. Damnit. She was just like Sakura. She just couldn't take no for an answer or try to control her emotions. He had expected his shirt to be dampened by the tears that probably would've ran down her cheeks. He was surprised when she shed no tears and he heard no sobs. It was just her physical closeness that she offered to him. He found it strange, because he thought of her as the kind of girl that cried easily, the kind of girl that made him feel like shit too often. She was stronger than he had thought.

And he was just as strong as she had thought. The pain of his past—of his clan's past—was exchanged for a truce, a hope for a peaceful era in Konoha history. Despite all of the bloodshed, betrayal, and disappointment, he still stood today. His less than warm disposition had became colder when he came back (according to Sakura) and remained that way four years after the Hokage's pardon. And now she knew the reason.


	3. Rain

**A/N:**_WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MOST RECENT CHAPTERS IN THE MANGA! Also contains character death.  
_

_Yeah so I'm not sure how in character this is, but I just got done reading the last 10 chapters or so of the manga. And it made me think. Something tells me (or maybe I just want to believe) that Sasuke isn't a complete heartless bastard, but he stills has a lot of problems and has been manipulated by some very evil people. _

_Well anyway, I also got a lot of inspiration from the song Taishou.a by Annina. Really, go look up the english translation to these lyrics and listen to this song. It's very beautiful!_

_And as for my multi-chapter fic, I'm nearly done with the first chapter! So if you like my writing, keep your eyes peeled! It's called Perfect Stranger. Oh, and as usual, any constructive criticism is welcomed, but no flames!_

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The tear that ran down his cheek blended with the rain, and his vision began to blur. Sasuke stood over the makeshift grave, staring blankly at the flower he had laid there. Picturing Hinata's body beneath the freshly upturned dirt was too painful to bear for long. Despite the circumstances of her death, her face had looked so serene when he had picked her up out a pool of her own blood. The daintiness of her white cheeks contrasted with the ugly dark red hole in her chest. She looked like a porcelain doll that he had so recklessly broken.

He asked himself over and over again what kind of inhumane urge had driven him to do this. Had the past really been that painful? Was he really that drunk with vengeance and anger over what the village had done to his clan as well as the brother he had vowed to kill since the massacre? He refused to admit that raw hatred had clamped its jaws on him, bleeding out any compassion that he had left in his heart. He didn't want to even recognize the possibility that Madara had manipulated him for his own selfish agenda.

The rain had already begun to fade the crimson stains of Hinata's blood on his shirt, though her memory was bright in his mind. He remembered the love she offered, the pure affection, the sacrifices of honor. He could remember that the most peaceful moment he had had in years was that day he was with her. But he had given up too fast; the light she gave had quickly faded into the darkness he had worked himself into. After years under Orochimaru, he had learned to take comfort in his immutable anger and savor the taste of vindictive rage. And now he was the only one standing in Konoha to pick up the pieces of his own destruction. Hinata's corpse, along with the rubble that burned around him, left tangible evidence of what kind of a monster he had turned into.

Sasuke finally pulled himself away from the grave to retire for the night, hoping that the rays of a morning sun would soothe away the punishment that was his remorse. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wished that he would be able to smile like that day he had with Hinata; like he had not lost anything at all.


End file.
